Past Things
by suplexlibelus
Summary: Even for The Holy, the past can be an ugly little thing. Slight dub-con. Balder/Jeanne implied Balder/Rosa.


With a silent groan, the silver haired witch was thrown across the wide stone hall. Behind her, a tight leather body suit lay torn on the floors of the throne room and hair struggled to cover her exposed body against the onslaught of sharp feathers that rained over her. A faint rosy light lighted the woman's skin in a painful aura that only grew stronger as she tried to stand up. Her cloudy gray eyes glared down the hall, at the tall man that was slowly walking towards her fallen body, his long flowing robe trailing elegantly behind him. Unsure legs tried to stand her trembling form up, the effort breaking the flow of the blond hair that seemed to evaporate from around her body.

A trembling hand reached forward for support as Jeanne's legs threatened to give way. For a moment, all she could feel was air before long fingers wrapped tightly around hers. She gasped, quickly trying to pull her hand away. Balder's cold hand tightened around hers, not letting her get more than half a step back.

"Let go of me, Sage!"

A smile curled the man's thin lips, his piercing eyes settling on her face. He seemed to stare into her eyes, enjoying the anger bubbling behind them. Slowly, without giving her a chance to pull back, The Lumen Sage lifted her hand close to his lips. Jeanne's brows furrowed slightly, her brash voice sounding stronger than her body felt. "Balder!"

The Sage openly ignored her, his lips now almost touching her pale skin. Jeanne's eyes moved across the room, searching for her guns, the ones that Balder meticulously stripped from her during their "training". She knew her fury was useless. She wanted to beat the crap out of this man, she wanted, deep down, to see him suffer. But she couldn't.

Her eyes flickered back to the tall man holding her hand, stopping as they found his staring unblinkingly at her face. He stood as still as a statue, making sure her eyes won't be deterred from him anymore. Curious now, she waited, wanting to see what exactly he was planning.

More moments of silence passed between them, only serving to annoy Jeanne even more. Finally, Balder pressed his cold lips on her skin, making the witch violently jerk her hand away. Wordlessly, she turned to walk away only to have one of her legs captured by a long golden feather which she mercilessly ripped off. Her heels clicked on the marble floors, her silver hair wrapping around her body as soon as she exited the Sage's sphere of power.

An almost inaudible sigh escaped the man's lips, before he retreated back to his throne. He had hoped, albeit foolishly, that the witch would have been more cooperative. After all, not counting his Cereza, she too was the last of her kind. He stood in silence, memories of his Rosa returning to him in an unforgiving torrent. His Rosa, with her brash and quite unladylike attitude, his Rosa with her cold but expressive eyes, his Rosa with her harshly melodious voice, his Rosa, so much like this abrasive and much too violent silver-haired witch.

He had given her a choice. A choice that was nothing more but a formality, a pleasantry. He controlled her after all, her mind unknowingly subdued by hundreds of years of servitude. The witch may think she was acting on her own, but this could not be farther from the truth. His influence was present in her every thought, he had made her forget and turned her against her Umbran Sister, her childhood friend, as easily as a gust of wind changes the path of a feather. He gave her a choice because he liked her rebellious nature, but he wasn't going to give up just because she refused.

The last Lumen Sage let his power shift, let it reach the Umbran Royalty now serving him and let it concentrate all the influence he had over her. Silently, he removed the golden mask that covered half of his face and waited for the return of the silver haired witch.

The clicks of high heels resonated through the large room once more. The Sage, his eyes closed in wait, listened to the approaching sound. A familiar emptiness filled the witch's eyes as she silently straddled the Sage's legs, not flinching as his long arms wrapped around her tall skinny frame. Her gloved hands rested on the man's shoulders as he pulled their bodies together, pressing his face against her chest. Even her body, firm and slender reminded Balder of his lover as he ran his hands over the foreign but familiar curves. He felt the hair smoothly disappearing under his gloved fingers, firmly dug into her skin as if to stop her from escaping. With the Umbran suit out of the way, his fingers slid to the front of her body, lightly touching the smooth pale skin that was presented to him. The silver haired witch's body was taut, her breasts smaller than he remembered Rosa's. He lightly ran his hands over their curve, feeling the woman shiver slightly.

Suddenly, the Lumen felt as if all his energy had been sapped from his body in the span of a a few seconds. Once more, he pressed his face against the woman's chest, forcing her body closer to his. A hand coiled into his hair, lifting his head up. Facing him, the witch's mouth curled into a cruel smile. Their lips met and, seconds after, his hands were forced away from her body now hanging limply over the golden armrests. Her hands left his hair and grabbed the sides of the throne for support as her body, still pressed tightly against his, began a slow grind. His hands were pushed away as he tried to wrap them around her waist again and again. Her hips ground into his as she dragged herself over his lap, her head nestled into the crook of his neck, hiding her face from him. She listened as his breaths slowly became labored, allowing him to grab her hips as a silent groan escaped his lips. She felt his whole body shudder as he pressed her hard against him, his eyes now firmly shut as his harsh breaths escaped dry lips. Faster and faster, his ragged breaths came out, matching her movements.

After a particularly harsh shudder, they both remained still, her body still tightly pressed into his lap. Silent moans escaped the Sage's lips as his body stiffened, the presion and warmth of the witch pulsating through him.

They sat, unmoving, before the Sage's arms fell from around Jeanne. Roughly, she pulled her warmth from him, her hair suit reforming as she walked away. A tired wave of his hand and a slight pause announced him that she won't remember anything. She won't remember him.


End file.
